


Lit up like a match

by nagdabbit



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: (except Neil. I'm the author i do what i want), A Gross Misuse of Italics, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Billy Hargrove Lives, Chance Meetings, Everyone lives, In which season 3 is ignored because the author was too depressed to watch it, M/M, No beta author is drunk, Post-Canon, Robin is there a little bit but she's at the other end of the bar flirting, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Steve Harrington Being an Idiot, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Trans Billy Hargrove, Trans Male Character, and angry people always grow up to be bakers for other reasons I've decided, crisis averted, even i'm a little fuzzy on the details, everything is soft and nothing hurts (anymore), i think this is just fluff, i've decided steve is a teacher for reasons, is this fluff?, just go with it, like a decade after season 2, one of them "your soulmate's name appears on you" AUs, the author cusses a lot so everyone else does too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:14:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23077630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagdabbit/pseuds/nagdabbit
Summary: And then in swooped Lillian fucking Hargrove. Lillian with sun lightened curls and miles and miles of tanned skin. Lilly with a fight in her belly and a fire in her eyes. Billy with a mean right hook and permanent bruises that Steve was too late to identify. Billy who didn't seem to know soft or sweet or kind. Who didn't seem to know what to do with Steve, so she settled for hating him instead.On a Friday night, in a Chicago dive, Steve meets a familiar face.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 30
Kudos: 205





	Lit up like a match

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "About as Helpful as You Can Be Without Being Any Help at All" by Dan Mangan.
> 
> Listen, folks, it has been A Minute since i last watched Stranger Things, and even then I never made it to season 3. Listen, we all get too depressed to watch the things we love, right? Anyway, I had A Thought about Soulmates that happened to coincide with scrolling through Netflix this morning, and wouldn't you know it, a fic happened. So. Have fic? Like I said, I haven't watched s3, but fics made me love Robin so she's mentioned a little. It's all vague. 
> 
> All spelling mistakes are my own because I am an idiot adn have also had an entire bottle of wine and a half, all awkward spaces before or after italics are courtesy of Google Docs. If i missed any, I will fix at some point.
> 
> EDIT: this now has a sequel: [Keep me in your glow](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23156836)

"My, oh _my._ " The voice was smoky and rough over the din of voices. Maybe not _deep_ , but husky. Amused. So _familiar_. "What's a _pretty boy_ like you, doin' in a place like this?"

And _that_ took him back. _Pretty Boy._ Nobody called him that except--except _Lillian._ She'd always say it with a smirk on her painted, red lips. Her eyes would be hard and bright, shoulders stiff, chin high. She'd always say it like a challenge, like a _dare_. She'd say it with the same force she'd once used to bust her knuckles open across his cheek.

 _Scorched earth_ was practically a personality trait for her. She was all flame bright, burning hot and fast until there was nothing left but coals and smoke.

She'd sauntered into Hawkins with swaying hips and swinging fists, all fire and fight and gasoline. And she'd been _magnificent._ Lillian Hargrove, Lilly. Steve had managed to get himself distracted by the crystal blue of her eyes, misheard Lilly, called her _Billy_ instead. But she'd just laughed at him, sun bright. For a moment, she'd been soft as sunshine in the autumn chill. Glitter, gold and California warmth.

" _Billy,_ huh?" She'd tilted her head at him, amused, almost gleeful. Almost _happy._ Pleased as a kitten with cream. It was the only time Steve could remember that look on her face. "I like it, _pretty boy_. Suits me, dontcha think?"

Helplessly, he'd just nodded.

After that, though, she'd been a _forest fire._ Cruel and quick and destructive. She whipped through the school, through the town, burning everything in her path. But still, he _wanted_.

They say _you know._ The name appears and _you know_ if they're meant to be a friend or a _lover._ Could be the most common name in the world, but they say _you just know_ when you meet them. Put thirty _John Smith_ s in a room and _you'll just know_ which is the right one.

And sure as shit, Steve _knew_ that William Hargrove would be _his._ Nothing platonic about it, nothing innocent and friendly. Meant to be a _lover._

But he took one look at _Lillian_ Hargrove and _knew_ the letters across his hip were wrong. Whoever it _was_ , whatever cousin of hers, or brother or--or _whoever._ It didn't fucking matter. Steve didn’t want them, not if they weren’t Billy.

He'd had doubts before, when he found himself in love with Nancy Wheeler. She didn't have her name yet, and it was easy enough to convince himself that William could be just a dear _friend_ , if it meant Nancy would stay. But then the world went to hell and letters formed on her wrist and she couldn't convince herself to love Steve anymore--and he had his doubts that she ever truly _had_.

And then in swooped Lillian fucking Hargrove. Lillian with sun lightened curls and miles and _miles_ of tanned skin. Lilly with a fight in her belly and a fire in her eyes. Billy with a _mean_ right hook and permanent bruises that Steve was too late to identify. Billy who didn't seem to know _soft_ or _sweet_ or _kind._ Who didn't seem to know what to do with Steve, so she settled for hating him instead.

They say _you know_ , and Steve _knew_ , beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the name on his hip was _wrong_. It had to be.

Even when she broke a plate across his head and nearly killed him, and everything got lost in dark tunnels and monsters and _fire,_ he still wanted her. And before he knew it, she was gone in a cloud of exhaust and dust. Before he had any chance to do a damn thing about it.

He _still_ felt like a fool for not running after her.

He turned in his seat and was met with a sly smirk and a pair of hard, cool blue eyes. 

He was golden and tan where he leaned against the bar, hip cocked. Despite the relaxed pose, his posture was stiff and uncomfortable, his expression _tight_ beneath the forced smirk. But he was familiar, so damn familiar. His _tone_ , the way he'd said it, _pretty boy_ \--it was more than just the words that had sent Steve down that trail of memories.

Petal pink cupids bow where he remembered bright, angry _red_. Golden curls pulled into a messy bun atop his head, instead of wild and blowing around a pair of tense shoulders. A flat chest beneath a worn-soft denim shirt, unbuttoned so _low_ it should have been _illegal._ Sun tanned skin littered with constellations of old, silvered scars, and just the _edge_ of a scar that-- _for once_ \--wasn't made in _anger_.

An achingly familiar pendant glinted at him in the low, smoky barlight. 

Not _just_ similar, _the same_. It _couldn’t be_. Not there, in the low light of some Chicago dive. Billy wouldn’t have settled for anything less than a California coastline. Wouldn’t have stayed so close to Hawkins, so close to _Steve_. It could never be that _simple_. 

But, maybe, _for once_ , life _could_.

"Is that _you_ , Hargrove?" he asked, words nearly sticking in his throat.

The smirk went a little wider, turned a little more feral. Ready for _something_ , and it wasn't good. The eyes were the same, right down to the fiery _challenge_ in them. Anger, raging and hot and ready for a fight, and _he_ was fucking _beautiful_ "Don't cream your pants, _Harrington_."

And he was helpless, as always. Steve just grinned, took it for the joke it wasn't supposed to be. If he was _smart,_ he'd back away. He didn't want a fight, but, _fuck_ , _Billy fucking Hargrove_ was looking at him, and he'd never had much sense of self-preservation. " _Christ_ , it's good to see you," he said, the words just tumbling out of him before he could even think to stop them. His fingertips itched with the need to _touch_. "I, _shit_ , can I--have you become a hugger? I'd like to hug you. Is that alright?"

He froze. Blinked back at Steve in surprise. Caught off guard, he looked more than a little overwhelmed. "Uh, sure? Sure, yeah, okay."

He was solid and warm beneath Steve's hands, slotting against him fucking _perfectly_. Like he belonged there, the way Steve always believed Billy would. He smelled like _spice,_ like bay rum and pepper and _smoke_. Something sweet, like lilac. Something sharp, like lime.

He pulled back before he got caught out being a pervert and doing something stupid like _sniffing_ the other man.

"Fuck, you look good," Steve said, still holding him by the shoulders. His face was open and surprised, not the closed off sort of fear and rage he'd been wearing when Steve turned toward him. Not dark and angry and _hungry_ , the way Steve remembered. "Freedom suits you."

He laughed a little, almost helplessly. His eyes were wide and searching. He looked _bewildered_ , which wasn't an expression Steve could ever remember seeing. "I--yeah. You, too."

" _Billy_ still suit you, too?"

He gave another small laugh, a little warmer than the last. "Yeah. Yeah, still _suits me_."

"Come on, sit. Stay awhile," Steve said, nodding back toward the stool he'd abandoned. His face hurt with the size of his grin. "Tell me what you've been up to, where you've been."

He looked a little awkward and off-balance as he sat at Steve's side. 

"This… isn't how I imagined this going," Billy said, and then chuckled. He shook his head, watched a drop of condensation slide down the bottle on the bar in front of them. "I thought there might be more yelling, maybe."

"When have I _ever_ yelled at you?" he said, and immediately regretted it.

Billy opened his mouth to retort, and then paused. And then he blushed and winced. "I never apologized for that night, did I?"

"No, but I…" Steve broke off with a sigh and shrugged, "You don't need to apologize to me. Lucas, maybe, but _I'm_ fine. That night was… we both had our shit, neither of us had all the information, and we were both dumb kids. You're forgiven. You’ve _been_ forgiven."

Billy flicked his gaze up, a little furrow between his brows. "Easy as that?"

"There wasn't a damn thing about that night that could _ever_ be called easy," Steve said, then shrugged again. "But, yeah. Easy as that."

He schooled his expression and tipped his bottle back to finish off the last of his beer. He motioned to the bartender for two more. "Well I feel a little at a loss, here. You seem to know all my dirty, little secrets." 

"I'll tell you mine, sometime."

"Yeah?" He licked over his lips, chasing the last few drops of beer. The move wasn't half so brazen as it used to be, but Steve was still transfixed. 

"I should've at the time, probably. Could have used your help," Steve said, tearing his gaze from Billy's slick lips. Billy was _looking_ at him, all knowing and smug. He offered a small smile, ignored the heat in his cheeks, "So how have you been? Are you living around here?"

Billy nodded, ducking his head a little. "Yeah. Didn't quite make it back to California."

"Finally get a taste for snow?"

He made a face, nose all scrunched up and _cute_ . " _Fuck no_."

Once they fell into a rhythm, it was easy to talk. To catch up and pretend they'd ever been anything close to _friends_ . But it _was_ easy. Billy hesitated only as long as it took to toss a few bills over for the beers, and then they were off.

Billy had driven as far as the last of his cash would take him, fought his way--with fists and fire--into a job at a garage in Cincinnati for a few months. He’d had them all wrapped around his finger by the time he split, apparently. He slung beer in Indianapolis for awhile on his way through, saved as much as he could to take him farther. Made a few friends, worked all manner of odd jobs. Learned how to _bake_ , of all things.

"What, like cake?" Steve had asked. Without his approval, he felt his face scrunch up.

Billy didn’t seem to mind, though. He laughed, looked at Steve like he was an idiot, but like he was _pleased_ . "Sometimes. More like _bread._ "

"Ah, kneading dough. Tasty anger management," he teased. "Sounds about right."

Billy's glare was made a little less terrifying by the amused twitch to his lips. The punch to Steve's shoulder, however, didn't hurt any less than he remembered.

For the first time, it was _easy_ between them. And it only took a decade to get there.

He seemed surprised that Steve had--eventually--got into college, and significantly _less_ surprised he became a first grade teacher. He looked _very_ interested in hearing about Steve's cat, about his current group of students-- _Just call them_ ducklings _, Harrington. They imprint on you just the same--_ and about his friends and coworkers that had accompanied him out on the town.

He talked about the place he'd just opened, with his newfound friends. A cafe a few streets over, full of life and _people_ and the family he'd always wanted. Cozy and warm and drenched in coffee and flour and, _yes, Harrington_ , cake. A safe place for people like _them_ \--and he'd said it with a wary eye on Steve, waiting to be refuted.

Billy had asked, then, about finding Steve sitting alone in a gay bar on a Friday night. Apprehensive, but his shoulders slowly relaxed. He grinned at tales of Steve’s friends that were strewn about the place. He laughed, learning about Robin, another Hawkins export that had found her way into the Chicago school system--who was definitely _not_ making a fool of herself in the face of a pretty woman at the end of the bar.

He asked, _softly_ , about Steve's name. If he'd found them, if he was _trying_. Said he'd found his own, but it hadn't worked out the way he'd hoped. Said he was single, as he looked up at Steve from beneath his thick lashes, a blush on his cheeks.

And then, suddenly, it _clicked_. 

Billy was talking about his new home--the too big house with a wide yard, perfect for a dog, maybe, or a _family_ \--when it _finally_ hit him. When it _finally_ made sense. 

No one could _ever_ call him quick on the uptake.

 _Fuck_ , he was an idiot.

"Oh." He watched him-- _Billy_ \--freeze in place, mid-sentence. "Oh, _shit._ You--William. That's your name, right? It-it's William _._ Billy is short for _William_."

He nodded, slowly. He looked at Steve like he was an _idiot_ \--because he _was--_ but there was something else there. Something that was still a little unsure about him. 

It was a wild mix of relief and shame and regret and goddamn _bliss_ that settled in his chest. "I fucking _knew it_ ," he said and threw himself from his seat because he _needed_ to get them out of there. He gripped Billy's hand tight and dragged him away from the bar, weaving through faceless bodies as he led the way to the door. He didn’t pause as he passed his friends; he’d worry about them later, Billy was more important. "Come on, I live just down the street, I gotta--just _come on_!"

There was a helpless laugh at his back, but he got no resistance as they pushed into the dark night. 

Around them, the Chicago night was crisp and wet with spring rain. The breeze carried exhaust fumes and asphalt, instead of mown grass and honeysuckle. The street was loud with traffic and music and laughter from bars and clubs spilling out onto the sidewalk.

And Steve _ran_ , laughing and so goddamn _excited_ , that Billy even joined in. He dragged the other man along behind, and Billy never struggled to keep up. The heavy slap of his boots was loud on the sidewalk. His hand was warm and secure in Steve's own.

He really didn't live far from the bar. A loft, four blocks down, above a little bookshop. Small, _cozy_ , and it never felt empty like the house he'd left back in Hawkins. He had a cat, named Corduroy, that didn't like him much, but made a lovely paperweight when he sorted through school papers. The street lights made it so the apartment was never truly dark, always tinted gold and pink neon from the bar across the street. There was always noise from the shop downstairs, from neighbors, from the traffic outside. He never had to contend with _silence_ anymore.

They skidded around the alley corner, and toward the metal steps up to his door. They got hellishly icy in the winter, and slick in the rain and somewhere along the way, Billy tripped on the stairs like Mrs. White in _Clue_ and Steve just _laughed_ and kept running.

His hands shook as he unlocked the building’s door, the sound of Billy laughing and scrambling up behind him loud in the night. He couldn’t get in fast enough, couldn’t possibly move any faster as he fumbled with his apartment door, even with the encouraging heat of Billy’s presence at his back. If anything, the audience made it worse. But it didn’t matter much, it must only have been a few seconds before he pushed into his apartment.

"Harrington, what the _fuck_?" Billy asked, laughing a little helplessly. He was smiling, chest heaving, but his expression was unsure. He looked _good_ , standing in Steve's doorway. He looked _right_. "What's going on?"

"I fucking _knew_ ," he said, panting and breathless as he fumbled with his belt buckle. And he _knew_ what it looked like but he powered on, they'd wasted enough time already. "I thought--I just _knew_ it was you."

"Me _what_?" Billy asked, stepping back. He looked afraid, confused. "What the fuck are you--"

"That's why--your first day, when we met," Steve said, pausing to watch his face as he thought back. "You were so fucking… I dunno, _charmed_ or something when we met, and-and I remember watching you. Like, you were _expectant_ . Like you were waiting for me, and after you were so _different._ Angry, and I--"

" _Harrington_ , I swear, if you--if you're fucking with me," Billy said, blue eyes wide and glassy. " _Steve._ "

"You were waiting for me to-to _know you_ ," Steve said, desperately. His hands were shaking. "You have _my name_ , don't you?"

Billy nodded. His lip trembled a little, brow suddenly furrowed in effort. Like he was trying now to cry. "And you d-don't have mine."

"I _did!_ I-I _do_ have your name," Steve said, and shoved his jeans down just enough to reveal the words on his hip. "I've _always_ had your name, Billy. You just-- _you_ didn't have your name yet."

He _stared_. Eyes wide, lip trembling. Those baby blues flicked between the bared skin and Steve's face. 

Shakily, Billy stepped forward. He paused just long enough to switch on the closest lamp, so he could _see._ He was trembling, tears filling his eyes. He sank to his knees, breath pushing out of him in a harsh rush. Billy raised a trembling hand to trace the letters, leaving goosebumps in his wake. "And… the name never changed? It was never--it was always like _this_?"

"Yeah, since I was thirteen or so," Steve whispered, shivering beneath the gentle touch. "But I _knew_ something wasn't right. Knew it had to be you, the moment I saw you, but your name wasn't right."

He dropped his hand to the top of Billy's head, brushing over the soft curls. His hair had come free as they ran down the street. It was _soft_ and fine.

"Fuck, _Steve_." Billy sagged forward to rest his forehead against Steve's hip.

He dropped to his knees, taking Billy's face in his hands. " _God_ , Billy. You really are mine, huh?"

He gave a small, _helpless_ sort of laugh, and ducked to press a kiss to Steve's palm. "I fucking… I tracked down _every_ Steven Harrington I could find. And not a damn one of them was _you_. Not a damn one of 'em could even compare."

"I never even _looked_ ," Steve admitted, a little sheepish.

"Why didn't you say anything?" he asked, and brought a hand up to trace Steve's jaw. He followed his fingertips, looking on with something like _wonder._ "You must have thought that I knew him, or something."

"Why would I want your brother or _cousin,_ or some shit, when you were _right there_?" Steve asked, and sat back on his heels. "I _knew_ William would be more than just a friend, and I didn't _want that_ from anyone else. I wanted _you_ . And, _god_ , teenagers are fucking idiots. It _never_ crossed my mind that _you_ were William."

"Yeah, you were a fucking idiot back then," Billy whispered, laughing. His eyes glittered with unshed tears.

Steve grinned, "So stupid."

"You had no _right_ to be that pretty and that _dumb_ ," Billy muttered. He met Steve's gaze again, head shaking. "Fucking no right to be that goddamn _endearing_. It was disgusting."

Steve had always been helpless when it came to Billy. A decade gone, and he was no different. He was still stupid for Billy fucking Hargrove. "Mostly I just… I didn't want to upset you."

Billy rolled his eyes, so hard that _Steve_ hurt. But he was _blushing_ , too. "God, Harrington, you're such a _sop_ , jesus."

"Yeah, for _you_." Little bit of a tease, more than a little serious. “Just for you.”

Billy laughed again. He ducked down to press into Steve’s palm again, muttered another soft, “ _Fucking sop_.” Billy shook his head and met Steve’s gaze again, his eyes still glittering and wet.

"Would you have _known_ back then?" Steve asked, softly. _God_ , Billy's eyes were an ocean of blue, deep and shifting. "Did I… screw it all up? If I'd shown you the name _William_ , would you have known?"

He sighed, sagging a little. "Maybe. Probably not. Like, I'd always… I _knew_ something wasn't--I didn't _let_ myself think about it, you know? Like, if I ignored it, it would go away. It was _safer_ if it would _just go_ _away_." He shook his head again. "If you'd shown me the name, I probably wouldn't have believed it."

"Shit, and _Hawkins_ didn't help. _Neil_ didn't help," Steve grumbled. He leaned forward to press his forehead to Billy's. "I'm glad you got out when you did. Hawkins would have killed you if you'd stayed any longer."

He felt Billy nod against him. "And if Hawkins didn't, Neil would have."

Steve made a face at the memory of _Neil Hargrove._ He hadn't thought about _him_ in years. Remembered what he _did_ , sure. But Steve had buried him along with the rest of the monsters they'd all left in Hawkins. _But._ Steve took a deep breath, lifted Billy's face up to meet his eye. "Have you talked to Max?"

His expression shuttered. "No. Not since I left."

"You _should_. She still worries. She misses you," Steve murmured, and tucked a stray curl over Billy's ear.

He snorted, shook his head. "No she doesn't."

"She _does._ She's grown up a lot, too," Steve said. All the brats had. Except, _maybe_ , Mike. If he had to throw any of them under the bus, it would be Mike. "You should talk to her."

Billy made another disbelieving sound. "Yeah? And why should I? Maybe I don't _want to_."

Well, as good a time as any. "Neil is… he died. He's gone."

Billy _froze._ He went deathly still, save a few trembles. His eyes were wide, suddenly overflowing with tears again. "What? H-how?"

"Car crash. Not--not long after you got out. Wrapped his car around a tree," Steve murmured. He didn't say he had _help_ , he didn't say that Neil had been aiming for _Lucas_ , he didn't say that Hopper gave El _permission_. Didn't say that Max looked at every Camaro she saw in the hopes she recognized the driver. Didn't say that Susan was remarried and happy and _guilty_ and still kept a spare room clean and ready, just in case. "He can't hurt you anymore," Steve whispered instead of all that, hands framing Billy's face again.

Finally, the dam _broke_. His face crumpled and the tears he’d been fighting finally spilled down his cheeks, and Steve couldn’t move fast enough to pull Billy into a hug. He murmured again his ear, soft reassurances and soothing words that he didn’t even hear, too concerned with keeping Billy comfortable and calm. Too concerned with keeping his hands on any bit of Billy he could reach. Too concerned with the feel of silken curls twisted between his fingertips.

“ _Sop._ ”

He laughed and ducked pressed a kiss to Billy’s cheek. “I know. You like it, though.”

Billy didn’t say anything, didn’t disagree. He kept his wet face pressed into the crook of Steve's neck, left hand pressed to the name on Steve's hip. 

Still silent and trembling, Billy took Steve's wrist and pulled it closer. It was a slow movement, and Steve had to wonder who he was trying not to spook. He carefully pulled Steve's hand passed the deep, open V of his shirt, until his palm was nestled up against the warm, smooth flesh over Billy's ribcage. And, _oh._ There it was. A name. _His_ name.

The letters beneath his hand _burned_ , warm and alive. His mark on Billy, a thread tethering them, pulling them back together after so long apart. 

"Stay," Steve murmured. He stroked through Billy's soft curls with one hand, felt Billy just _breathe_ against the other. "Tonight, here with me. _Stay._ "

" _Just_ for tonight?"

"I was banking on _forever_ , but we can start with tonight," Steve murmured, chuckling. In his hands, Billy was alive and warm and finally _his_. " _Stay_."

Billy shook his head, little more than a twitch but it seemed _fond_ . His own hands gripped at Steve's hips, holding tight and firm, and he didn't relax until Steve twisted to press his mouth to Billy's temple. " _Don't tell me what to do_ ," he grumbled, but he wasn't moving.

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments are lovely and welcome


End file.
